Between the Lines of Fear and Blame
by lilydaydreams
Summary: A rewrite of late season 6 on with Tara alive after Warren's attack as she struggles to find herself and rebuild her relationship with Willow. Anya and Giles try to figure life out and grow together in the process./if we're being honest I've abandoned this story for the foreseeable future, I hope one day I'll resume it but I honestly don't know, sorry guys
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Hi! I'm still heartbroken over Tara's death, so here's a little fic speculating how things would have gone on if she hadn't died. Not terribly original, I know. Mostly Willow/Tara and Giles/Anya; I have another Spuffy-centric fic I'm occasionally working on so this won't include much Spuffy. Going to try to update at least every week! :)_**

May 7, 2002

"Your shirt..." Tara said softly, pointing at the spatters of blood on Willow's blouse before her knees buckled and she collapsed. Willow screamed and caught her before she fell face first onto the floor.

"Tara?" Willow shifted her girlfriend's limp body in her lap and tried to control her panic. "Tara, baby?" Tara's closed eyes seemed to flutter.

Willow aimed every ounce of her power at Tara, knowing if she wasn't dead yet, there was still time to heal her. She felt something blocking her, a wall deflecting her power from making contact with Tara. Fear, maybe? She didn't know, but she refused to believe Tara was...

Willow couldn't even think of the possibility. She picked up Tara's wrist and felt around for a pulse. After a couple moments, she felt one, but very, very slow, and very weak. Tara didn't have long without medical attention.

She heard sirens outside the now broken window and gently laid Tara's head down to stand up and look outside. Was there any way someone else could have known and already called 911? Xander was down there, outside, pacing, and there was an ambulance.

 _Xander._ She called to him in her mind. He looked up and around, still unaccustomed to her communicating this way. _It's Willow_.

 _Will._ _Did you see what happened? It was Warren... He had a gun._ Xander's thoughts felt dark, confused, jumbled.

 _Wait, what? Okay, what I need from you right now is to send some paramedics upstairs with a stretcher. Now._

She heard him yell to the paramedics and footsteps coming up the stairs.

 _Willow, what happened up there? I know what happened down here, but..._

 _I didn't see what happened outside. You said something about Warren? What's going on?_

Two paramedics came upstairs and called out. She answered and ignored whatever Xander was trying to say to her in response. They entered the room, gently but efficiently lifting Tara's body onto the stretcher.

"Are there any more victims, ma'am?" one asked her.

"No. Not that I know of." Willow accompanied them downstairs and through the front door, finding Xander and hugging him.

"Tara...oh god, Will, Tara? That's why you wanted help upstairs. Oh, god." Xander's eyes were wide, and he held Willow close to him as if trying to shield her from any more stray bullets that might come along. "Not Tara too..."

"It missed her heart, I think, but she needs help. Wait, what do you mean, 'too?'"

The two entered the back of the ambulance once Tara was safely on board and stabilized, and Xander didn't have to answer her. Willow felt like someone had punched her, seeing Buffy's body, with its matching bloodstain in the same place as Tara's.

* * *

Buffy and Tara were stabilized for the moment, but very seriously injured, a nurse informed them. It was still unclear whether they'd make it. Willow gripped Xander's hand hard, feeling both relief that they were still alive and paralyzing worry about their conditions wash over her.

"Um, Will? I love you, and I get the need for physical contact, but I kind of think you might break all the bones in my hand if you keep this up," Xander said, nodding at their clasped hands. She loosened her grip a little.

"Xander...I tried to heal Tara, and I couldn't. There was a wall."

"A wall?"

"I don't know. It just...hit something. Wouldn't connect. I don't understand why. Why is it that my magic stopped working the only time it actually matters?"

"That's weird, and I don't know what would be going on with that, but Will, it's gonna be okay. Buffy's got her Slayer healing, and both of them are two of the strongest people I know."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and Willow finally extracted her hand from his, drumming her fingers anxiously. "Xander, what the hell happened? You said something about Warren?"

"Yeah. Buff and I were just hanging in the front yard, and the sociopath shows up out of nowhere, waving a gun and screaming about what she did to him. He fired a few shots, and I guess one of them went through your and Tara's bedroom window, and one hit Buffy." He looked up at Willow and thought he might see a tinge of black in her eyes. She was shaking, and he wondered if she might be cold, until she spoke.

"Warren," she said, and the single word contained fury beyond anything he'd ever imagined from his best friend. She stood up, pacing a bit, before finally throwing out her arms and shrieking. Something, some sort of energy, shot out of her hands and made contact with the wall across from her, blowing a hole in it.

It alarmed Xander to see her like this, but he tried to stay calm. "Uh, I guess that means your magic's still working, in any case?"

She stared at him and he realized he hadn't been imagining the black in her eyes. "Good."

"Will? I'm upset and I know you are too, and you have every reason to be, but all we can do right now is wait and pray. And I'm going to call Giles to let him know."

A small smile played at her lips. "I can kill Warren."

"Or you could...not do that? Maybe go home and change your shirt so you're not covered in blood? Get some rest."

Xander thought he saw a slight eye roll as she left the room, but put it out of his mind. Will wouldn't hurt a human, right? He knew how frustrated she must feel, though, not being able to do anything, and realized even the pain of telling Giles what had happened would be better than sitting alone with his fear.

He dialed Giles' number from memory.

"Hello?" a groggy voice asked, and Xander realized it must be the middle of the night over there.

"Hey, G-man. It's Xander."

"Xander. You woke me up. And for the love of god, don't call me G-man."

"Yeah, okay, whatever. It's important," he paused, considering how to break the news. "I have a couple of questions."

"They better be some bloody _important_ questions."

"First...is there a reason a witch wouldn't be able to use their own magic in certain ways, like if something really traumatic happened?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath, and practically felt Giles polishing his glasses thousands of miles away. "Yes, I suppose so. Magic is about emotional and mental control, and a lack of balance there can absolutely cause limitations and problems with the witch's use of magic."

"Okay. And same situation, would somebody, you know, with a lot of power, be potentially dangerous?"

"Xander, I know you're talking about Willow. Please stop using hypotheticals and be straight with me. What's going on?"

Xander didn't know what to say to make it any less upsetting, so he obeyed Giles and told it straight. "Buffy and Tara were both shot by Warren, and they're in critical condition in the hospital. Willow couldn't heal them, but she was able to blow a big smoking hole in the wall of the hospital, and she just left."

The ensuing silence was the worst thing he'd ever heard. When Giles finally spoke, his voice was weak and pained. "Go after Willow and make sure she doesn't do too much damage. I will be catching the first flight possible back to Sunnydale."

* * *

Giles didn't allow himself to feel anything until he'd contacted the Devon coven, rushed to the airport, and boarded his plane, but once he was on his way, he broke down and sobbed into his hands. The passenger beside him looked deeply uncomfortable and leaned away from him.

 _I've lost my daughter once before, and I don't think I could bear to go through it again,_ he thought to himself. _My daughter. She's not my daughter,_ he corrected himself. _She's just Buffy_. But didn't the Council fire him for having "a father's love for the child?" Wasn't he in Buffy's life far more than her biological father ever had been? Wasn't Dawn Buffy's sister, despite her true existence as the Key? _I'm her father if anyone is, Goddamnit, I love her more than anything in the world, and I refuse to see this happen again_. He got a hold of himself and blew his nose. "What are you looking at?" he demanded of the man next to him, who inched away a little more.

* * *

It was dark and silent until she felt herself coming to. Then light, and a splitting pain in her head. She tried to lift herself up, but was met with sharp pain in her ribs and an overwhelming wave of nausea. Lying back down, she succumbed to the darkness and faded out of consciousness once again.

Things started off simple. To Anya's shock, Xander had entered the Magic Box in full crisis mode.

"Here to berate me some more for who I choose to sleep with?" she asked him bitterly.

"An, now is not the time-"

In her vengeance demon state, she was attuned to his emotions and could feel waves of fear and concern emanating from him. She ignored the fear and continued. "Yes, actually, I think now is an excellent time to communicate about all the ways you've hurt me!"

"Seriously. I need help."

She crossed her arms and sighed. "What?"

"I think Willow might be dangerous and I need to find her before she does serious damage to anybody."

"Willow? Dangerous?" Anya scoffed. "Isn't she like, cold turkey from magic?"

Xander stared at her, his normal, lighthearted demeanor completely absent. "An. Tara and Buffy were seriously injured by Warren Mears and they're in the hospital. Will's understandably really upset and I think she's going to hunt down Warren."

Anya hadn't really believed him that tiny, harmless Willow could ever really hurt someone on purpose, but she'd helped him set up a simple locator spell to keep track of the girl anyway.

She only believed him when Willow had actually walked into the Magic Box only minutes after he'd left, saying he was swinging by home to get weapons, just in case. It was Willow, but it wasn't. Her hair was dark, her eyes were completely black, and Anya could feel her aura screaming fury and revenge. Could black magic really cause a sudden dye job like that? Anya figured now was not the time to ask.

"Hey, Willow!" she said, trying to be cheery.

Willow ignored her presence entirely, summoning several of the dark magic books they kept upstairs down onto the table. Anya went around the counter and cautiously approached her. "Will, I think we have some other spell books you could use, on that shelf over there. Wanna try one of those instead?"

Willow looked up at her, and for a second Anya thought she might actually listen. Then she felt her body hurled across the room, and reality faded out.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: In this chapter, Dark Willow happens...sort of. Since Tara's not dead, I had to manipulate Will into doing some bad stuff, but not to the same extent or in the same way as in canon. TW for graphic violence!**_

 _Late night of May 7, 2002 and early morning of May 8, 2002_

She felt his fear, breathed it in. It radiated off of him in waves, his wide eyes and pleas for mercy invigorating her. If only he could have showed such humanity before his own life was at stake.

"Why are you doing this?" rasped Warren, a glimmer of tears starting to show in his eyes. "Summers isn't dead. I know she isn't."

Willow smiled, taking a step forward to stroke his cheek with the tip of her finger, then casually flicking her hand. A deep cut appeared on his face and he winced. "Warren, honey, it doesn't make it better that you _failed_ in trying to kill my best friend. But that's not why." Warren just stared at her, his mouth slightly agape, and said nothing. "You see, there's someone who means the world to me. She's not a slayer like Buffy, just a regular human. And unless modern medicine advances a hell of a lot overnight, she might die, and it'll be your fault for not knowing how to shoot a gun."

Warren closed his eyes. "Whatever you're going to do, please just do it."

"I think you know what I'm going to do," Willow said, smirking.

"Oh, I don't know...kill me?" Warren asked, too afraid and weak to muster up any genuine sarcasm.

"No, sweetie. I'm going to hurt you, and then I'm going to kill you." She took a step back, her face alarmingly serene, and moved her hand back and forth a few times. Gashes appeared all over his body. "This is fun, isn't it? You must be having fun. You're the one who likes hurting people, after all." His head slumped forward, and she reached forward to slap him in the face. "You're going to stay awake for this."

* * *

Xander knew that with an enchanted map, it really shouldn't take much time to find Willow, but somehow she was traveling much more quickly than on foot. He sprinted into the clearing, panting, but stopped dead at what he saw. His best friend stood in front of a bloody, battered man tied to a tree who looked like he was at the edge of death. God, he wanted Warren dead as much as anybody, but not by Will's hands. She didn't deserve that blood on her hands.

"Willow!" he yelled, racing toward her.

Willow turned around, saw him, and rolled her eyes. "Xander, you should know by now not to disrupt my work." She shrugged and turned back to Warren. "Bored now." The man's skin ripped off him like a shirt simply being unbuttoned, and a scream escaped Xander's lips. "Will you ever shut up?" she asked him, sending him flying across the clearing rather than waiting for an answer. When he finally managed to get up, she was gone from the forest and nowhere to be found on the map.

* * *

Xander hadn't known what to do, with Willow inaccessible on the map and no telling what she'd do next, so he'd returned to the hospital. It was late night, maybe early morning, and the waiting room was deserted but for one small, hunched over figure curled up in a chair. He approached her cautiously, knowing this must be the hardest for her out of all of them, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "Dawn. How is everything?"

Dawn twisted in her seat and looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot and teary. "Buffy's stable. She was hurt bad but she's definitely salvageable. The doctors are acting like it's a miracle but it's just her Slayer healing stuff."

Xander sat down next to her. He didn't want to push her to talk if she didn't want to, but there wasn't a nurse in sight, and he needed to know. "And Tara?"

She was quiet for a moment, then took a deep breath and examined her nails, as if bracing herself against further tears. "They said...she's lucky it didn't hit anything vital, but there was still massive blood loss. It caused...a sort of stroke and they said now she appears to be in a coma. She doesn't have much time left. They didn't tell me how long and they won't let me see her."

Xander put his arm around Dawn and pulled her in close, stroking her hair in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Dawnie, they're both gonna pull through. I know they will. It's just what the Scooby gals do." He wasn't sure he believed it himself, but he needed her to think so. They sat quietly together, tears finally spilling out of Dawn's eyes and trickling onto her cheeks. "I'm actually kind of here for a reason," he finally said, breaking the silence. "I can't find Willow."

She pulled away from him and sat up straight. "Willow?" she asked quizzically.

Xander considered how to phrase it so she wouldn't get even more freaked. She'd been through a lot for someone so young, and he didn't need to make it worse. "Yeah, she's kind of off the deep end what with Tara being hurt so bad and all. Remember how she got when Glory brainsucked Tara?" Dawn nodded in affirmation. "Anyway, I found her at first, and she did something real bad. I couldn't stop her, and then she got away, and now she's off the map and disappeared somewhere."

"What did she do?" Dawn asked.

"That's a discussion for another time, Dawn."

In typical 15-year-old fashion, Dawn rolled her eyes. "Don't baby me, Xander."

"I'm sorry, Dawn. I don't mean to treat you like a kid." That got a tiny smile out of her. Sometimes Dawn felt like Xander was the only one of the Scoobies who didn't see her as a 5-year-old. "I just really don't want to get into it right now. Do you know where Will could be? Somewhere not on the map? I'm at a loss."

"Rack's," she responded immediately.

"Rack's?"

"Yeah, it's like, a place where she went a few times to get magic high or something. You need a portal to get there and it moves around and stuff."

"You think I could bribe a demon twenty bucks to find me the portal?" he asked her.

"What can't you bribe a demon twenty bucks for in this town?"

* * *

Xander had seen a lot of things in his time. He'd had to, after fighting by Buffy's side for so many years. And maybe with no context, what he saw in Rack's wasn't too bad.

The front room, which he entered through the portal the demon showed him, was a bloodbath. Furniture was broken and knocked over, and bodies were strewn everywhere. At first he thought they were all demons, but then he stepped over what looked like a human. The body was bloody and motionless, but he checked for a pulse just in case. There was none.

Yes, compared to other things he'd seen, this was nothing. But knowing that his best friend, his sweet Willow, had done this, made it unbearable.

He was afraid to see what lay beyond, but forced himself to walk inside to where Willow must be anyway. The door was blocked by something and wouldn't fully open, but he managed to squeeze through. It was another body―Rack, perhaps? Willow wasn't immediately visible, and he thought he must have missed her, until he heard a voice from the ceiling.

"Hey, Xander." The witch was floating on the ceiling, her bloodstained clothes now even further dirtied after her violence. Her hair and eyes were both jet black, and her normally pale skin was sickly and marred by dark veins.

"Willow," was all he managed to say, in a slightly strangled voice.

"Did you see the mess I made out there?" she said playfully, giggling. It reminded him a little of Drusilla, the childish reveling in evil. He couldn't do anything but stare at her, wide-eyed. She frowned and her tone changed. "Oh, right, I forgot, you're Xander, which means you have like, a hard-on for morality yet still manage to treat everybody like shit. You wouldn't appreciate my work."

The insults broke through the barrier of utter horror and shock that he'd been hiding between. "Will, what the hell is going on? Please come down from there."

To his surprise, she did, casually floating down to stand right in front of him. "What happened, Xander, is that the love of my life is dying. Without her, I don't have anything. Nothing means anything. Don't you see?"

This was Will. This was a Will who'd completely lost it and killed people, yeah, but hey, we all have bad days, he reasoned, and tried to stay calm. "Okay, but why immediately resort to violence and killing?"

He thought he saw a tiny flash of vulnerability in her eyes, but then she was back to scary and veiny and furious. "I couldn't heal her. I couldn't help her at all. I'm one of the most powerful Wicca in the world, and I couldn't use it to help her. That just means the universe has other plans for me." She shrugged. "And who am I to go against that?"

"Will, I understand why you might feel like that, but c'mon. We need you back. I need you back," he told her, letting a hint of desperation enter his voice.

Willow tilted her head and smirked. "You're gonna rehabilitate me? Save your breath. I'm a killer now, just like Faith. Remember how you all treated Faith?"

"Hey, no, you're my best friend. Please. It doesn't matter what you've done. I need you."

"Let's compromise," she said.

She still seemed crazed but he answered her warily. "Yeah?"

"Difference between me and Faith is I have the common decency to just kill myself." She lifted her hand and materialized a dagger seemingly out of thin air and held it up to her throat, backing a couple of paces away from Xander. "Try and stop me. You won't. I'm a danger to society, aren't I? You know it's better this way. I want it to all be gone."

"Willow. I love you. Please don't do this," he pleaded with her.

"What, you're gonna talk me down 'cause you love me? How original."

Xander kept talking, reasoning that at the bare minimum, she hadn't actually spilled any of her own blood yet. "That was basically the plan, yeah."

"You never were good at planning," she said snidely. "Or lying. Or much at all. Like I said, don't waste your precious time." He took a couple cautious steps toward her.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'm a useless mess." He threw up his hands. "Not gonna make me stop loving you."

She was still scary and veiny and dark and holding a weapon to her own throat, but Xander thought maybe he saw the remnants of the girl he'd first befriended over a decade ago, as she told him, "Xander. Go away and let me do what I have to do. Drop whatever last ditch attempt at nobility you think this is." She raised her left hand, the one not holding the dagger, and threw him hard across the room.

He pulled himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the pain. Her hands were shaking, he noticed. "The first day of kindergarten," he started, slowly pulling himself to his feet, "You cried because you broke the yellow crayon and you were too afraid to tell anyone." Willow glared at him and summoned a little ball of fire, hurling it at him. He moved out of the way, but it singed the side of his face and shirt. "You've come pretty far. Killing people, yourself? Not a terrific notion. But the thing is, yeah, I love you. I love crayon-breaky Willow and I love scary, veiny Willow. So if you're going out, I'm here too. If you wanna end it all, start with me. I've earned that."

He stepped right in front of her. She was shaking, and he noticed for the first time just how small she was. The dagger clattered to the ground and she collapsed into his arms.

"Oh, god, Xander, what have I done?" she whispered in horror. He said nothing, but pulled her in tight, stroking her hair, which was back to her trademark red.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Late update, short chapter. I'm the worst. Things are crazy right now, but your reviews/favs/follows mean the world to me :) Yeah, not much Willow/Tara so far, but I promise they're endgame. I have a rough plot outline I'm following but am absolutely open to any suggestions for what you'd like to see in this fic.**_

Morning of May 8, 2002

The nurse wasn't totally sure what had just happened, but she sure as hell wasn't going to argue with it. First the demanding British man had run in, ignoring everything she tried to tell him about proper visiting procedure. He'd entered Tara Maclay's hospital room. And minutes later, he'd left, striding away purposefully.

But the point was that Tara Maclay, somehow, some way, wasn't in a coma anymore. She was awake, very weak, and seemed like she was in a great deal of pain. She was awake.

* * *

"Giles?" Buffy whispered.

"Yes, Buffy, it's me," he answered her softly, reaching out his hand to brush away a strand of hair from her sallow face.

"I think I almost died a third time," she informed him. "Why didn't I?"

"Because you're the Chosen One," he said, only half joking. That drew a small smile out of her.

"How come you're here, anyway?" He didn't answer her right away, but picked up her hand and concentrated on healing her body past what her Slayer strength had already taken care of. The Devon coven had imbued him with their collective power before he'd caught his flight, but he'd used much of it bringing Tara back from the brink of death. He focused on channeling the remaining healing power into her. She seemed to feel it, and exclaimed, "Oh! Saving my life. Right."

Giles watched as her complexion brightened a bit and her typical vivacity began to return. "You're going to be alright, Buffy. After extensive rest and time, of course. A normal human certainly wouldn't have been able to recover from the wound you suffered, even with the wonders of modern medicine, but fortunately, you're not a normal human." He frowned and took off his glasses to nervously polish them. "Tara, on the other hand..."

"Tara? What about Tara?" She tried to sit up a little and winced in pain, falling back onto the bed.

"Ah. I suppose you wouldn't have known; you were barely conscious when it happened. A stray bullet from Warren's attack on you also hit Tara, in a less central location, but the blood loss was severe. She suffered complications and fell into a coma."

Buffy looked at him incredulously. "Giles, what the hell? How can you say that so...calmly?"

He was quick to reassure her. "Sorry, yes, should have clarified. She's awake now and will likely be alright. I visited her hospital room and healed her with power I essentially 'borrowed' from the Devon coven before I left."

She visibly relaxed. "Oh. Good. So what now?"

Giles shrugged. "Now we give you and Tara plenty of time and care until you heal properly. Any power I had has been drained from me now, but I'm going to retrieve supplies from the Magic Box to attempt to make you both a healing potion."

"Okay. Sounds good." Buffy turned her head and examined the hospital room around her. "Hey, where's my crowd of adoring supporters, anyway? Are they all with Tara?"

"That's an excellent question," Giles said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Xander, Willow, and Dawn are nowhere to be found in the hospital. I wonder what they could possibly be up to right now?"

* * *

When Giles entered, the Magic Box looked strikingly similar to its state after Olaf the troll had wreaked havoc on that one occasion. Tables and chairs overturned, broken glass all around the floor, and oh, God, he hated to think of how many invaluable magical artifacts were damaged. It would be near impossible to rifle through everything to find the books and ingredients he needed, but he supposed he'd have to.

Those thoughts vanished when he noticed the small figure of a girl slumped against the wall, immobile and surrounded by debris. And not just any girl. Anya.

In the split seconds it took him to cross the room and pick up her wrist to check for a pulse, a flurry of emotions flooded his mind. He was fond of Tara, yes, and no other human being would ever be as significant to him as Buffy, but seeing Anya like this provoked a different kind of worry than when he saw both of them unconscious in the hospital.

He finally felt a weak pulse in her wrist and let out a sigh of relief, surprised at how much concern he had for her. He'd seen plenty of dead or seriously injured people in his career as Watcher, after all, and Anya was simply a colleague. A coworker. A woman his amnesiac self had been engaged to for several hours.

She was a friend. Giles realized this with striking clarity, as if he'd had an epiphany, yet felt a twinge of confusion at it. He didn't really have _friends_ , per se. Unless you counted Olivia, who was out of the picture now and had been, as Anya so elegantly put it, an "orgasm friend." There wasn't much time to contemplate this realization, as she seemed to stir and wake up.

Blinking a few times, she opened her eyes, squinting to try to keep out the light. He adjusted himself so his torso blocked the light streaming in from the window from hitting her face. "What are you doing here?" she asked, clearly woozy yet still with her usual bluntness.

"Hello to you too, Anya," he said, stifling a laugh.

"No, really. Aren't you supposed to be in England? Are you coming here again to try to take ownership of the store? I thought we were done with all that. I'm handling it quite well on my own, thank you very much."

"Ah, yes. I see that," he said, nodding his head to gesture at the destruction surrounding them.

She blinked several times and seemed to notice her surroundings for the first time since waking. "Oh no. No. _No._ Do you have any idea how much lost revenue this is? How many _priceless_ artifacts destroyed?"

"It's going to be quite alright, Anya," he said, even though he'd had the exact same thought only minutes earlier. "What matters now is your safety and what happened here." He stretched out a hand to her and she attempted to stand up, but her knees buckled. He managed to catch her, draping their arms around each other and helping her to one of the only chairs in the shop that wasn't tipped over.

Anya took a few deep breaths and clutched her head. She was likely concussed. "Willow," she said, matter-of-factly.

"Willow? I don't follow."

"That's what happened here. And judging by how psycho she went while she was here, she probably messed some stuff up other places too. I never trusted that girl."

Giles felt himself go numb as Anya explained her understanding of what had happened. She informed him that she wasn't sure of much after she'd been thrown against the wall and knocked out, but that Willow had probably gone on an evil rampage somewhere. When she was done, he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Oh, dear. Well, I suppose my reasons for stopping here will have to wait, and I won't be able to help you put the shop back together right away. First, you need to be taken to the hospital, and then I need to find Willow and with any luck stop her from doing whatever she intends to do."

"I'm fine, really," Anya said. "A concussion and a couple of broken ribs, sure, but my healing should be accelerated. Perks of being a vengeance de―" She abruptly cut herself off at the shocked look on Giles' face.

"Anya, you're a vengeance demon again? Why on earth?" He was surprised at the feeling of genuine disappointment in her that rose up in him. "Well, we'll have to discuss that later. There are more pressing matters at hand."

He sighed, gave her one last rueful glance, and called an ambulance.

* * *

Afternoon of May 8, 2002

 _Dear diary,_

 _So things are pretty messed up around here. Right now, I'm with Xander in the living room. I'm not totally sure what he's doing. I mean, he's pretending to watch TV, but yeah right._

 _Willow is upstairs totally exhausted and passed out. I guess that's sort of just what happens when you kill people. Basically what happened was Warren shot Buffy and also accidentally Tara. Will and Xander rushed them to the hospital, but Tara was doing really bad 'cause she's just a normal person with no Slayer strength or anything. Willow had been doing so well with the whole magic thing, but I guess she was so convinced Tara was a lost cause (and she would've been, if Giles didn't show up ASAP with like, the healing power of an entire coven of witches) that she lost it and went murder-y and evil. My personal theory is that not doing magic for so long made her explode, like if you shake a soda can and then open it and it fizzes all over? So, anyway, she tortured and killed Warren, then went to Rack's and killed some more people, then got magic high off Rack and killed him too. Xander wouldn't tell me everything, but I guess Will freaked out and tried to kill both of them too before he talked her down with like, love and stuff._

 _To summarize: The good news is Tara and Buffy are alive, Giles is back in town (I haven't seen him yet, but Xander just talked to him on the phone so they could give each other the rundown of what even happened), Warren is out of the way (Is it bad that I'm kinda glad he's dead?), and there was no apocalypse. The bad news is that it turns out Will is an evil psycho junkie._

 _It's gonna be real hard for everybody to get past this one, but to be totally fair, basically everyone in the gang has done some awful things. And then they get on my case about shoplifting._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dawn Summers, arguably now the least awful member of the Scooby Gang. Not like they'd ever admit that, though._


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Be prepared for some fluff; this is that period between seasons 6 and 7 where nothing super important happens in canon. Thanks for reading, and please review, even if it's negative :)**_

Mid-May, 2002

Giles had never particularly liked grocery stores. They were so large, and full of people, and there were so many options for a single product. He thought it was much more sensible to have bottles of milk delivered to one's door, how it used to be done. No fuss, no stress, no trips out into the world.

He'd once idly mentioned how much he hated buying groceries, or most things, to Anya on a slow day at the Magic Box. To his surprise, she'd strongly agreed with him. "Why?" He'd asked her. For the most part, she seemed enamored with the trappings of capitalism that she'd found herself thrown into.

"It's so different, and bright, and everything is in a box. I _can_ grocery shop, of course, but I prefer to make Xander do it. Being inside one of those places just reminds me of how recently human I am." This had made perfect sense to him, although he didn't have the excuse of being a thousand year old vengeance demon.

He snapped himself back into the present and tried to block out the hordes of people and overwhelming sensory input, chastising himself for making something as small as an errand such an ordeal. After all, a household of five made for quite a few needs, and at the current moment, he was their provider.

Buffy was healing rapidly and back from the hospital. She wanted to go out on patrol and was clearly antsy about not being able to do so, but he insisted she heal completely before resuming her job as Slayer, and was covering her nightly patrols for the moment. Dawn was doing alright, considering, but she was a child, really. Xander was moved in to the Summers house temporarily and did all he could to help out, but his construction job had recently ramped up its efforts in rebuilding the Sunnydale High School.

As for Willow―she was stable, and they were all grateful for that. Yet she stayed locked in her room most of the time, presumably just sleeping or thinking, and only emerged occasionally to eat. None of them were sure if she'd been using any magic.

So everyone else was essentially incapacitated, so he, Giles, had to step up and fill his role as the only _real_ adult in the household and take care of everyone. Which was why he was now standing in the middle of the supermarket, grocery list and basket in hand, perplexed at where to find the last item on the list.

Dawn had made a list of food items they were running low on, and a few of her favorite unhealthy snacks. He'd only picked up the essentials. Xander had added "paper towels" and "toothpaste" to the list. He'd gotten all those things. At the very bottom, though, Buffy had scrawled "tampons." She'd added a little smiley face next to it.

Giles realized these were certainly a necessity and he had no qualms about buying them for her, especially since he'd discouraged her for going out to run errands herself. But the occasion had never arisen before for him to buy feminine hygiene products.

After wandering around aimlessly for quite a while, he finally asked a salesperson, who directed him to aisle 14. They were there, alright, but there were so many varieties of them, and Buffy hadn't specified. He filled up the basket with one of each box, reasoning he could make Xander return the extras later.

* * *

Buffy had been home for two days now, and she still hadn't talked to Willow. It was kinda weird and it was getting weirder by the hour. She figured now, with Xander at work, Giles out, and Dawn over at Janice's, was a good time to break the silence.

She knocked on Willow's door.

"I'm busy right now," Will mumbled from the other side.

"Doing what? Drowning in guilt?" Buffy knew she was right, but was met with an exasperated sigh.

"Go away, Buffy. Not now."

"Willow, I haven't gotten to talk to you at all, and I miss you, and you know I'm going to kick down the door if you don't unlock it." Buffy listened as Willow got out of bed and reluctantly opened the door.

"Okay. Come in."

They sat on her bed, cross-legged and facing each other. Buffy didn't know what to say. She hadn't thought this far ahead.

"So, are you going to tell me that killing people is bad and I have a problem and I need to get the hell out of your house?" Willow tried for a sarcastic tone, but before she could get out all the words, her voice broke and she started to cry.

"Oh my god, Will, _no_." Buffy moved forward and held Willow in a tight embrace. "I mean, killing people is bad, don't do it again, but that's absolutely not what I came here to say." That got a small, strangled laugh out of Willow. "I came here to tell you that we all love you and will support you unconditionally, even though you screwed up. To say that you're still my best friend."

Willow leaned back to look Buffy in the eye, her face wet with tears. "Thank you, Buff. That means more than you know."

Buffy smiled. "All that being said, I'm your best friend, and I want what's best for you. So I'm telling you that you have to get out of bed and move on with things."

"Move on? I killed people, Buffy," Willow said, her voice almost a whisper. "How does a normal person move on from that?"

"We're not normal people, Will. We save the world like, annually. That doesn't make what you did okay, but it does mean that you can eventually move past it."

She nodded. "Alright. Where do I start?"

"I'd recommend talking to Tara. If you don't feel ready for that, then don't, but you know you have to at some point."

"Okay."

* * *

Willow had left half an hour ago and Buffy hoped with her whole heart that Tara would be gentle with her. It was Tara, after all, but Tara had been pretty horrified when they filled her in on what Willow had done.

She lounged on the couch, itching for a good fight, though she knew Giles was right about needing to heal fully before patrolling again. Giles was always right.

Speak of the devil. He entered that very moment, five grocery bags in hand, and greeted her. "Damn, Giles, I didn't know we needed that much stuff!"

"I didn't know what to get you." He set down four of the bags and she peered inside. They were full of tampon boxes, probably enough for the next several years. She really shouldn't have trusted him to get those for her.

He looked sheepish and a bit pink. "Thank you," she told him, stifling her laughter. "This was very thoughtful of you."

Giles nodded stiffly. "Please inform me if you would like me to get you some chocolate. I have heard that it is sometimes necessary at times such as this."

To his surprise, she leaped up and hugged him. "You're the best dad I could ever ask for."

He excused himself soon after to the kitchen, claiming there was something in his eye, but Buffy knew the truth.

* * *

Willow stood outside the hospital room door with a bouquet of pink tulips. She knew they'd been Tara's favorite flower ever since age seventeen, when Tara and her mother had visited the Carlsbad flower fields. Mrs. Maclay had died only a month later.

She was afraid to go in. Was there any easy way to talk to your girlfriend about why you'd gone on a murderous rampage? _Ex-girlfriend_ , _probably_ , Willow corrected herself.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to open the door. Tara lay on the hospital bed, propped up with several pillows. She was paler and thinner than Willow remembered and although she nodded in acknowledgment of Willow's presence, she didn't smile.

"Hi, Tara," Willow said in a small voice.

"Hi."

They sat in silence for a few moments, until Willow realized it was probably on her to start the conversation. "It's probably a given that we're broken up after what I did, huh?" She tried for a bit of levity, but knowing Tara, that wouldn't help much.

"Yes, it is." Tara's words were uncharacteristically clipped and filled with hurt.

"Okay, that's what I thought. I came here for two reasons, then."

"And what are those?"

"I needed to tell you that I'm sorry. I could've been there for you, even though I couldn't heal you, but I went on a rampage instead. I'm sorry for that, and someone as good as you deserves better. I love you more than anything, and I always will."

Tara paused for a long time, then finally spoke. "Okay," she answered softly. It wasn't the overwhelming forgiveness or blind confession of love Willow had hoped for, but she knew it was far better than she deserved. It was acceptance, not hate or disgust.

"Then the second thing. Do you think―" Willow paused, her voice faltering. "Do you think, maybe, someday, I could be good again? That I could become a good person?"

Tara sighed and sat up a little. "Willow, I know you don't believe me, but I don't think you're a bad person. I don't believe in bad people. There's just good people who do bad things. And I think anybody can become the kind of person who avoids doing anything majorly bad, but some people have to work at it a little harder than others." She pushed back a strand of hair that was falling in her face and looked up to meet Willow's eyes. "So yes, Willow. You can be a good person, and you can do good things. I just can't be there with you while you figure out how."

* * *

"Hey, Giles, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Giles was rather taken aback to see Willow speaking, let alone in such an assertive manner. He supposed she'd gotten tired of moping in her bedroom indefinitely. Willow sat on Buffy's living room couch and gestured for him to sit down. He did.

"So Buffy convinced me to go see Tara this afternoon, and I talked to her, and long story short, I want to fix things. Maybe those aren't the right words. I don't know if I can ever fix things. But I want to get better. Not just for Tara, or for me, but for all of us." The words came out a messy jumble, Willow barely stopping to breathe. She seemed to be trying to expel all the words from herself lest they stay trapped inside her. Giles was about to speak when she continued. "I want your help. I want you to help me get better." She looked at him, her green eyes earnest and hopeful.

Giles couldn't quite say Willow was like a daughter to him. He couldn't look at her with the blind fatherly affection with which he saw Buffy. She was more of a difficult niece or something of the sort. But as she stared at him, all he saw was a young woman who was baring her soul to him in this conversation, who would do anything for redemption. He'd have to be a monster to say no.

"Yes, Willow, I'll help you in any way I can...although I'm at a bit of a loss as to how. What did you want me to do, exactly?"

Willow paused, thoughtful. "I don't know, exactly. Some sort of magical rehabilitation. I don't think it's entirely healthy for me to keep the magic bottled up all the time and never use it, but I need to get it under control. And I remember when I was first starting out, you told me it was all about emotional control, right? So I don't know. I thought maybe you could, like, be my Watcher, but for me as a witch and not a Slayer."

Giles nodded to indicate he was listening but broke eye contact. This was quite a bit to take in. She was such an immature, foolish girl, one who'd made some massive mistakes. That alone made him wish to stay far away from her, but his inner Watcher reprimanded him. You're really going to abandon someone like this, with so much power and no idea how to use it for good, to her own devices? Clearly a terrible idea, really. "Alright, Willow. Yes. I'll help you."

She smiled wide. "Thank you! Okay, so I thought maybe we could start with a multi-step plan? Like they do for recovering addicts, but also just so we have a schedule and a timetable?" She picked up her computer from the coffee table in front of them. He hadn't even noticed it was there.

Dear lord, she really was serious about this.

* * *

Xander came back to the Summers residence, beaten down and exhausted from a day of hard work. He missed his apartment, but he was going to stay here until things settled down. When he entered the kitchen to get himself some water, he saw Giles slumped over the table, head in his arms.

Xander shook Giles' shoulders gently. "You okay, G-Man?"

Giles sat up groggily, his glasses askew. He adjusted them and looked up at Xander blearily. "Yes. Don't call me that."

"You look like hell," Xander informed him. "And I'd know, 'cause I've been building over a Hellmouth all day."

"It's just been a rather long day."

Normally, Xander would've left it at that and given Giles the space that he so clearly wanted. But he'd had barely any human interaction at work today, and the Summers house had been so uncomfortably quiet for the past week. His instincts told him to keep pushing about it. "What's up, man?"

"'Man?' Really, Xander, did you ever learn about an interesting concept called 'respecting your elders?'" Giles said, raising his eyebrows. "Although I suppose it's a slight improvement over 'G-Man."

"What's up, Mr. Giles, head of the household, esteemed elder?" Xander knew by the slight contortion of Giles' face that he was holding in a chuckle and counted it as a little victory.

"Willow's started attempting to behave like a respectable member of society again, I believe. She's back up in her room now."

"Wait, Will left her room today? Is she talking to people? How'd you manage it?"

"Yes, yes, and I didn't. Buffy says the two of them talked and that Willow visited Tara at the hospital."

Xander winced. "Seeing Tara? Already? I would've said that's pushing it, but I guess it's already done." If he knew Tara at all, she'd ended her relationship with Willow for good. From personal experience, he could confirm that your girlfriend dumping you from a hospital bed wasn't the greatest experience.

"I would have said so, too," Giles agreed. "But she seems stable, and she and I spoke about starting a program of 'magical rehabilitation,' so to speak. I'm to help her with her magical and emotional control as she comes back from this. I believe her meeting with Tara may have motivated her to ask me for help on this."

"Wow, that's...actually pretty mature of her. Good luck. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help the process."

Giles gave him a rare, genuine smile. "Thank you, Xander. I quite appreciate that and all you've been doing to help out in these difficult times. You've become quite the man."

Xander shrugged ruefully. "Sometimes I doubt it. I wish I'd been more of a man, oh, I don't know, when I was about to get _married_."

"I'm glad I wasn't there to see that whole debacle," Giles said, forgetting to censor himself as the words left his mouth. Fortunately, Xander laughed and took it in stride.

"You wanna hear the whole story, old man?" Xander asked him.

"I suppose I'm rather curious, yes. And for the love of God, please stop addressing me as variants of 'man.'" Giles sat back in the kitchen chair and prepared himself for a long ride.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Willow and Tara will happen. I promise. Just not yet.**_

* * *

Early June 2002

Willow wasn't quite sure what she'd wanted when she'd asked Giles to help her. They'd made a plan, of course, and she felt like in his infinite adult wisdom and Watcher experience he'd have to know what to do to fix her. She was totally on board with it, and at the same time she was blind-sided by how much _meditation_ was involved.

There were so many types of meditation, too, all the spiritual and cultural ones she'd ever heard of and an additional handful of magical ones. She was supposed to be working on meditating right now, reaching a transcendental state of emotional and spiritual control, or something like that.

"Willow," an exasperated Giles chastised her from his position opposite her in the training room. "I can tell your thoughts are wandering."

Oh, and there was that. He wasn't powerful enough to read her mind, but he could poke around enough to have a general sense of what was going on in there. She sat up straighter, her inner star student and eagerness to please emerging for the first time in a while, and focused as intensely as she possibly could.

"Perhaps we should move on for the day?" he offered.

She opened her eyes and nodded with relief. They could go a few ways from here, as she'd figured out over the past few weeks "training" with Giles. Magical concentration exercises, which were pretty much just applied meditation in her opinion, or history and research, which she enjoyed quite a bit. He'd even managed to locate an underground magical therapist, who did a weird combo of talk therapy and energy healing. "Yes, please. I feel like my thoughts are just running around all over the place and they don't want to do the meditation thing today."

"I suppose that's another way to say 'wandering thoughts,' yes," Giles said sarcastically under his breath. He looked up, adjusted his glasses purposefully, and smiled at her. "Well, perhaps it's for the better. I wanted to try a new form of training today."

"What else _is_ there?" Willow wondered out loud. She felt like they'd covered most of it.

He ignored her comment and simply asked, "Do you think you're properly fed and hydrated right now?"

"Yes?" she answered in a bemused tone. "Is the new form of training healthy eating? 'Cause I'm just fine with my diet of pizza leftovers, thank you very much."

"Good. I thought we could foray into the world of physical training."

"Physical training? You don't mean, like, Slayer training, do you?"

He nodded. "That's exactly what I mean. I know it may seem a bit odd to you, but I have several reasons for suggesting this." She stared at him, skeptical, but didn't interrupt as he continued. "You're a powerful witch, Willow. And you have a powerful mind. But part of true power is being able to adapt to any situation, and I don't want you to always have to use your magic in the case of any altercation. Think of learning how to fight physically as a fail-safe, if for whatever reason you can't use your magic and Buffy isn't around to help fight."

"Okay...I guess that kinda makes sense, in a really convoluted way? Whatever you say, boss."

"Secondly, part of what we're working on here is building you up emotionally and mentally, which we've been doing with the meditation and concentration exercises. But, as I'm sure you know, physical activity is a powerful way to engage another part of your brain, and the endorphins released are quite conducive to your emotional well-being."

"Okay, got you." She paused, thinking for a moment, and stared up at the ceiling. "I mean, those are good reasons, but you said 'several.' That definitely implies more than two."

Giles made a noise of frustration. "For God's sake, Willow, do you _have_ to notice my mistakes so acutely? If you must know, a third reason I'd like to progress this way is because it's where I have the most expertise in my position as Watcher. It's what I know, and I know I can teach you well in this particular arena."

"Cool," Willow told him. She wasn't really in a position to argue with what he thought was best. She'd forfeited that when she went temporarily evil. "So...are we going to start now?"

* * *

Tara hadn't quite known where to go once she'd been released from the hospital. Last time she and Will had broken up, she'd just moved back into her dorm room. But it was summer now, and she had to find something temporary for the next couple months. Buffy would have let her move back into the Summers home, she knew, but she couldn't live in the same house as Willow right now.

She'd gone to Anya for help. She didn't know why, other than that Anya seemed to have her shit together. Anya would know of somewhere she could rent a cheap room for the time being.

"I've got an extra room, now that I've moved back into my own apartment," Anya had offered her. Tara wasn't sure what she was hearing at first. Of course she liked Anya, but they'd never been close, and Anya wasn't exactly the super helpful type. But they'd managed to work out a deal where Tara paid her a pretty low rent given she helped out with some household chores and, in Anya's words, "Keep to yourself and don't be too much of a nuisance."

Anya's blunt, rather cold demeanor towards her hadn't changed, but Tara could tell Anya was developing a little bit of a soft spot for her new house guest. The two had so little yet so much in common, and they were both struggling to figure out where they fit in after just being the Scooby girlfriends for so long. Tara knew Anya was a vengeance demon―her aura was so full of pain and despair and confusion―but sensed it was born less out of true evil and more from misplaced anger over her wedding. It was understandable, really.

And from what she knew, Anya wasn't doing a great job of being evil. Tara didn't mean to eavesdrop, really, but she'd been sitting quietly in her room reading a book and Anya and Halfrek weren't soft-spoken types.

"Anyanka, as your friend, I've really just got to talk to you about your work performance lately. I don't mean to be blunt, but it's pathetic."

Anya had made an irritated scoffing noise at that. "Excuse me? What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on. You know. And so does everybody else; you're the talk of the town. Your curses are so weak, so dull. You used to be able to destroy civilizations, inflict true agony on those who deserved it. At least you'd always find something entertaining to do."

"But Hallie, I've been wish-granting! All the time! I've been going out to bars and finding lonely women and doing my job."

"And like I said, _pathetic._ Causing somebody's houseplants to die is _not_ raining ruin on wayward men, Anyanka."

"I've been doing so much more than that!" Anya had informed Halfrek indignantly. Tara had smiled in her own room and returned to her book, proud of her friend for developing such a strong conscience. She hoped she could eventually get Anya to give up the vengeance gig entirely, but until then, she was pretty relieved that her housemate wasn't actively murdering people.

* * *

Giles' trial run with Willow on physical training had gone surprisingly well. He supposed she'd picked up some of Buffy's tricks over the years. Willow had returned back to the Summers residence, where he, mercifully, was no longer staying, after deeming Buffy, Dawn, and Willow satisfactorily capable of taking care of themselves.

It was early evening, and he had two options now. Go into his normal routine of returning home to nurse a whiskey, read some books, write in his journal, perhaps play some classic rock, then go to sleep. Or he could stay here in the Magic Box for awhile longer and then return to his normal routine.

He'd been picking option two every day this week. Somehow, spending time in a business that he'd helped start up with some company, even if it was only Anya going about her work duties, was much better than going home and being completely alone.

"You're not trying to take the shop back from me, are you?" asked Anya. She asked that every day, and it had become somewhat of a running joke. Well, he thought it was funny. She was likely at least partly serious.

"No, the shop is entirely yours now," he reassured her for the umpteenth time.

He sat down at the table near the register and settled down to write in his journal. She went around the shop, tidying it before closing. "So, how's Willow's training going?" she asked him, that sort of obligatory politeness rare for her. She was either trying very hard to be pleasant or she wanted something. He didn't know which.

"It's quite well, thank you for asking! We introduced some physical training today so she's not entirely reliant on her magic."

"Hmm. Makes sense," she said, vaguely affirmative of his choice. "How's the, like, not being evil part going?" Ah, there it was. She couldn't repress her bluntness for very long.

In any case, he laughed. It was refreshing, in a way, not to have to tip-toe around the subject like with everyone else. "I don't think she's a threat. She was unstable and lapsed into a temporary state where she made some very bad choices," he said. He'd been repeating that phrase to himself a million times in his head, hoping he was right and that Willow wasn't inherently bad. Anya looked like she was about to argue, so he said something he knew would shut her up right away. "What about you?"

"I don't know what you mean," said Anya, knowing exactly what he meant.

"How's the world of vengeance lately?"

"Ugh. You weren't supposed to know about that."

"Yet I do, and I'm not going to let it go easily, either."

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I mean, if it makes you feel any better, apparently I'm not doing very well. Halfrek and D'Hoffryn and the others think my curses have been pathetic and weak-willed and uninspired."

"You know this isn't what you want to do, Anya, and maybe that's showing through in what you might see as your 'quality of work'" he said gently. "It doesn't matter how many cheating men you curse, how many other heartbreaks you try to fix with violence. It's not going to change what happened at your wedding."

"My not-wedding," she corrected bitterly. "That's the entire problem."

"Anya. I know you don't want to hear this from me, but I might have some insight to offer on that subject."

"How?" she questioned. "You weren't even there. You were invited, of course, but you didn't make it." Her tone was reproachful and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Right, sorry, I didn't make an international flight to attend your wedding that got called off at the last moment," he answered sarcastically. _Giles,_ he told himself. _Stop squabbling like a child_. He pulled himself together and continued. "I wasn't at your wedding, but I know you, and I've known Xander since he was 16. I've watched him grow up, and I like to think I've been a part of his growing up."

Anya finished her closing duties and locked up, then sat herself down at the table directly across from him. Her arms were crossed and her face purposefully blank, but Giles could tell she was at least mildly intrigued. In any case, she so desperately needed to talk about it. "Okay, fine. Tell me, Giles, why did Xander leave me at the altar?"

"Well, in short, Xander is an idiot." This drew a laugh and a wide, genuine smile from her and she uncrossed her arms. "And I spoke to him, actually. It had struck me as so odd how he can sometimes be so mature, step up to his role and be a man at times, and how he could be so woefully immature on his wedding day. There was the vision he got, of course, which he blames for much of it, but that just fed off the doubts he already had."

"But why? Why the hell would he have doubts about marrying me, someone interesting and passionate who loved him and was loyal to a fault, and honestly, was the second hottest girl who's ever been into him?" Anya questioned, the words coming out a messy jumble. "The first hottest was Cordelia," she clarified, "And she was a total fluke anyway."

Giles stared at her in the dim light. Anya and her fired-up, opinionated self. Her brutal honesty and capability of whatever she set her mind to. Her rather endearing ineptitude with people. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why the hell anyone would give up the chance to be with such an incredible woman.

"Well, I don't know why, and clearly you don't know why either, but you know what else? I sometimes felt like he was just in it for the sex. And then every time we weren't having sex, and I was just being myself, he was embarrassed to be around me. I was a liability for him."

Giles couldn't argue with this. Xander cared for Anya, certainly, but much of the time it did seem like he tried to shut her down when she said things he didn't agree with or that struck him as too out of the ordinary. "You're quite right, there. I've noticed that dynamic between you two. You have to understand that he cares for you, deeply―"

She cut him off abruptly. "Xander put you up to this! He's bribed you to get me to forgive him!"

"Believe it or not, Anya, I'm speaking to you out of my own free will. And I'm not defending Xander. He did something catastrophically foolish and selfish." Giles tilted his head to the side and looked her right in the eye. "There's always been a dramatic maturity gap between the two of you. Yes, Xander seemed more mature, at times, simply because you were still getting used to the trappings of mortality. But in reality, he's got 21 years of life experience and you have, what, how many centuries now?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I stopped counting. I dislike feeling old. Quite a few, in any case."

"Well, yes, you see what I mean. He's still growing up. You're still figuring out humanity, but those are different issues."

She seemed to think this over for a moment and reluctantly agreed. "I suppose so. That doesn't change how he hurt me, though. And he thinks he owns me! It's ridiculous. I have sex with Spike _one_ time and he berates me for it. As if he's got any say after leaving me."

Giles made a strangled noise in his throat and quickly tried to disguise it as a cough. "You...had sex with Spike?" _Good God. Who hasn't had sex with Spike?_ He wondered.

"You're not going to judge me too, are you? Men. Typical."

"No, ah, no, I definitely would not judge you for who you choose to sleep with. Definitely not," Giles tried to reassure her, attempting to scrub the mental image from his mind. He took off his glasses and began cleaning them.

"You're definitely judging, Giles, but I appreciate that you're pretending not to. Even if it's half-assed pretending." Anya smiled and patted his arm in what he assumed was an attempt at an affectionate gesture. "Well, anyway, it was just one time, and we were really drunk and sad, and next thing I know, he's got me over the table―"

Giles cleared his throat loudly. "I don't need details, thank you, Anya." He considered what she'd just said and rather horrified, asked, "The table we're sitting at right now?"

She nodded blithely. "Yeah." _Oh dear lord_ , he thought, trying to subtly push his chair away from the table. She cocked her head and said frankly, "You know, Giles, I could make a tradition out of this. Talking to men about how Xander broke my heart at this table, then having rebound sex on it?"

He sputtered and felt his face turning pink, trying to figure out whether she was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. She laughed. "Calm down, Rupert. I'm kidding." He laughed nervously and redirected the conversation to how the shop was doing in the absence of his leadership, and did his best to ignore what she'd just said and the fact that she'd called him by his first name. Both things proved difficult to forget.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: This fic isn't abandoned! Stuff in my life just got really crazy for awhile and I took some time away from writing.**_

 _ **This is way more Anya-centric than I had planned. Which is cool, because I really enjoy writing Anya. I have a rough but not entirely set outline for where I'm going with this story and am open to any suggestions! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**_

* * *

Early June 2002

Anya entered her apartment and set down her keys. Where was Tara? She needed to talk to Tara. Which was odd, because Tara had always just been there, like a nice ornamental fern or something. A welcome presence, but not anything you particularly cared about. You didn't talk to a fern.

Tara emerged from her room. "Hey, Anya! How was work?"

"It was fine, and actually a very lucrative day for business, but I think I accidentally propositioned Giles at one point."

"You...what?"

Anya sighed. "I don't know. It just happened. We were talking, and I told him more about my personal life than I was planning to, and next thing you know I told him about having sex with Spike on the table we were sitting at and then made a joke about us doing it."

Tara tried and failed to suppress a smile. "Well, Giles is mature, and he'll forget about it. And if he doesn't, he'll at least pretend he did."

She was right. "Thank you, Tara." It was nice having somebody so grounded and sensible in the house all the time. "Oh, and also I've decided to speak with Xander. How's your day going?"

"What?" Tara asked for the second time.

"I asked how your day was."

"No, no, before that. About talking to Xander."

"Oh. Well, Giles tried to put things in perspective for me, and I suppose he had some okay points, and now I'm going to try to act like a mature adult and communicate."

She noticed Tara's eyes practically light up at the word 'communicate.' "Anya," she said slowly. "I don't mean to overstep my boundaries, but would you like any help figuring out what you want to say to him?"

Anya really didn't, and she knew exactly what she wanted to say to him. Something about him being a lowlife bastard who was going to end up in hell. _No, Anya,_ she reminded herself. _That isn't the point of communication_. "Okay, I suppose so," she told Tara reluctantly, and prepared herself for far more feelings talk than she was comfortable with.

* * *

Xander had been shocked when Anya called him. It was what he'd been imagining a hundred times over, and yet at first he barely recognized her voice over the phone. "We need to talk," she'd said, four words that normally struck terror into the hearts of couples everywhere. They seemed like a blessing to him. Anything was better than the cold silence that had consumed his apartment since she'd left.

She came by at 7AM sharp the next morning. He had waffles ready for her—waffles were one of the human foods she loved the most. She'd told him once how amusing she thought their shape was and that she believed waffle griddles to be one of the best inventions of modern times. He thought they might serve as a subtle peace offering.

"Don't think you can buy me back with waffles," Anya immediately snapped at him as she entered.

"Oh. Ah, okay," Xander said. "I'll just put them in the fridge unless you change your mind, I guess?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed herself a plate from his kitchen cabinet. "I still want them, dumbass. I'm just saying you're not going to buy me with waffles."

They sat stiffly next to each other on the couch, a foot or two apart, and he watched and waited as she finished her breakfast.

"Well?" She demanded, glaring at him and putting her fork down. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Um, An, you're the one who called asking to talk," he reminded her.

"Oh. Right. Yes, I wanted to discuss the demise of our relationship."

"As fun as that sounds, somehow I feel like it's going to end up being a game of 'who can scream at the other the angriest,' and that, you know, might not be entirely productive."

"Yes," Anya said matter-of-factly. She pulled a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of her dress. Xander was never one to really notice or appreciate women's fashion, something Anya had found irritating every time she showed him a new outfit while they were dating, but he knew enough to tell she'd put some effort into her look for their meeting today.

She unfolded the paper in her hands and looked at it. "Tara told me that a productive way of going about this would include 'I feel' statements rather than overt blaming," she said, sighing dramatically. "I, for one, vastly prefer blaming, but I know Tara's going to ask me about this interaction later, and I find it's often best to just humor her."

"Wait," Xander stopped her. "Since when have you and Tara been such close pals?"

"Oh, I don't know, since we both had our hearts broken, moved out of our exes' houses, and moved in together?" She shot at him, then seemed to reconsider. "Ugh. Okay. Tara would tell me to phrase that as 'I feel disregarded and unimportant when you claim to still care about me yet don't even bother to stay up on basic details of my life."

"Well, I feel confused and aggravated when you expect me to know what you're thinking, like when you tell me to stay away from you and then want me to know all about your life."

"I feel indignant when you have the nerve to berate me about my sex life, which is none of your business, anymore, by the way."

"I feel shocked and betrayed when I find out both my ex-girlfriend and, as it turns out, my best friend, are sleeping with someone I can't stand."

"I feel deeply humiliated and as if my soul's been entirely crushed when my fiance leaves me on our wedding day."

Xander paused, unable to keep up with their rapid-fire exchange, and felt tears begin to pool in his eyes. "An, I'm so, so sorry."

Her intense, steely gaze didn't waver. "I know you are. But that doesn't change how you ruined what was supposed to be the best day of my life."

She was completely right, and he knew it, but he made a weak protest anyway. "You should've seen what I saw. What that demon, the one who was trying to ruin things, showed me."

"Oh, so now this is my fault, just because I cursed someone centuries ago?"

"That's...absolutely not what I said at all. I'm just trying to say that he showed me all this messed up stuff, things with us hating each other, this awful family that looked just like mine growing up, and it looked like hell. I wanted to marry you, but not if it was gonna be a repeat of my family."

Anya let out a frustrated little scream and buried her head in her hands for a moment. When she sat up, her eyes were watery and her voice higher than usual. "But Xander...If you loved me, if you really loved me and cared about me, why didn't you believe in us more? As convincing as you say that guy was, he couldn't have pulled that off if you didn't already have doubts. And remember the singing thing? The fun musical duet we had? You had doubts even then, and you didn't trust me enough to talk about them till magic forced you to."

"It was a duet, remember," Xander reminded her. "You had doubts about me, too."

"I made fun of your beady eyes and the fact that you snore. You questioned my entire character and our future together. But, that's not the point! The point is that you didn't have faith in us. That we could make it work. Change things."

"Anya, seriously, I didn't think this was just some hypothetical future. That guy said he was me from the future. I thought it was a sure thing that we'd be completely miserable if we got married. I was flat out abusive to you."

"Giles was right," Anya said. "You really are an idiot."

"Giles called me an idiot? When?"

She ignored him and continued. "Xander, some random guy said he was you from the future, and you just believed him? Why didn't you ask for some weird personal details from your childhood, or something, like 'prove you're actually Old Xander with this odd trivia question about me at age six that only I as an individual would know'?"

"What can I say? Was I ever really the smart one in our relationship?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows.

They stared intently at each other for a moment, both their faces wet with tears, and burst out laughing simultaneously.

"I don't know why I'm laughing," managed Anya, finally. "This is a very serious subject." As soon as she got the words out, she broke into a fresh round of giggles.

"It's just, you're right. About the demon guy who tricked me. I really am a dumbass," said Xander, wiping away tears that, for the first time in months, were from laughter and not heartbreak.

"You really are," agreed Anya, falling back on the couch.

They finally calmed down, and Xander's tone turned serious once again. "Anya, why'd you come here today?"

"I don't want to get back together with you, if that's what you're suggesting," she told him. "You hurt me too much for that. But I miss you, a lot, and it was just eating me up inside, like a monster chewing me up from the inside out, and I don't want that to be my life. Also, Giles and Tara have been bugging me."

"Thank God for Giles and Tara," Xander said, putting his arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I want to be your friend, Xander," she whispered.

"That sounds pretty nice," he responded softly.

She abruptly disentangled herself from him and sat up. "Also, I think we should have sex again. Just this once. For old times' sake, and I haven't gotten any since Spike, and you know it's just not the same when I―"

"Trust me, you don't have to convince me," Xander said, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into a deep kiss.

* * *

Anya headed home from Xander's apartment fairly soon after they finished, just so he wouldn't get any ideas. She'd left him with a firm handshake and a reassurance that they were indeed friends again, but nothing more. She thought it would work fine, as long as they didn't routinely sleep together.

It was a beautiful day, still early enough that it hadn't gotten hot, and she relished being outside with her own thoughts. And then out of nowhere, she wasn't walking with a slight bounce in her step across the sidewalk, appreciating the cool air. She was standing immobile in front of D'Hoffryn.

"Oh. Hi," was all she could think of to say.

"Anyanka," he boomed. "We need to talk." It was the same four words she'd said to Xander over the phone last night, and she didn't realize how menacing they sounded until she was on the receiving end. "Your job performance has been suffering lately. You're a demon again, yes, but it seems your time as a human has left you with some remnant of a soul. A conscience."

"Okay, maybe that's true, but let me explain the reasoning behind some of my recent curses―"

"The reasoning is that you've become weak and human and feel guilt when you inflict pain. I don't need you to explain that to me," he told her. He raised a hand to stop her as she opened her mouth to speak once again. "To add insult to injury, you've just extinguished the source of your power."

"You mean my pendant?" she asked, pulling it out from the neckline of her shirt. "Because I've still got it, and it seems like it's working fine."

"Anyanka, I felt it go out. About an hour ago, you forgave the man who made you this way. Who broke your heart and sent you back into vengeance. How do you expect to continue your job successfully if you can't even empathize with the scorned women you claim to represent?" She said nothing, knowing he'd just stop her again. "You have been my pride and joy for centuries, a truly legendary demon. But you can't do this anymore if your heart isn't in it. To use terms from the human world, which you seem to adore so much, you're fired. Do not attempt to contact me any further."

The next moment she was on the Sunnydale sidewalk again. She sat down and prepared herself for the tears she assumed were about to come, and realized there were none. Just a strange feeling of being light, airy, of having nothing holding her down anymore.

Oh, and her left ankle was kind of sore; she'd twisted it the other day. Damn humans and their low threshold for pain.

* * *

For the first time since she'd been released from the hospital, Buffy had a day off from working at the Doublemeat Palace. Even with Giles helping out, hospital bills and supporting a household of people weren't exactly easy to handle. She'd mentioned this to Giles, thinking that maybe everyone could spend a day at the pier and enjoy SoCal in the summer. He'd invited her to come train with him and Will, which wasn't what she had in mind, but she said yes anyway.

Willow seemed surprised to see Buffy when she and Giles walked into the training room. Clearly, Giles hadn't mentioned that Buffy would be joining.

"Hey, Buff!" Willow greeted her. Buffy smiled and raised her hand in greeting, walking over to the two of them.

"Hey. So what's the plan for today, Giles? Am I gonna learn how to meditate? Do some magic?"

"Willow hasn't mentioned?" Giles asked her. Buffy shook her head.

Willow stepped in. "Oh, yeah, I kinda forgot. Buffy, recently, Giles and I have expanded from mental and emotional exercises to also teaching me some physical stuff. Basic Slayer training, really."

This came as a complete surprise to Buffy, but a sort of pleasant one. Kicking ass was way more her arena than sitting in place and doing stuff with her brain. "Cool! I approve. So am I here to help teach?"

"In a sense, yes," Giles told her. "But you've also been out of commission temporarily due to your injuries, so brushing up on the basics before you return to patrolling might be valuable."

"Um, great!" Buffy agreed, deciding not to mention that against his advice, she'd been back at patrolling for a week now.

"There's actually a second reason I wanted to involve you in this, Buff," Will said gently, putting a hand on her arm. Buffy narrowed her eyes at her. Any statement delivered with this level of care was bound to be something she would want to argue with. "Giles has been having me see a therapist, sort of. She specializes in supernatural stuff which is why we picked her, and she does a little bit of energy healing, too. I want you to come with me or try out a session with her on your own."

"Will, I appreciate the offer, but I'm totally fine. Like, why would I need therapy, anyway?" She laughed nervously, knowing both Willow and Giles could provide her with an extensive list of reasons. Willow just looked at her pointedly. "Okay, I mean, fine. I guess so. If I can find time in my schedule," she said lightly.

* * *

Tara entered the Magic Box around noon. Anya had left her an excitedly cryptic message about "everything being okay now" on the apartment answering machine and asked her to stop by the shop. Anya was nowhere to be found, presumably down in the basement, so Tara took a seat to wait.

The figures of Giles, Buffy, and Willow emerged from the training room. The two girls walked close together, laughing with the easy sort of camaraderie that Tara had always wished she'd been able to find in a female friend. Tara could feel Willow's energy radiating off of her―some anxiety and baggage, certainly, but also a strong sense of acceptance and fulfillment. Tara felt a brief glimmer of happiness at how well Willow was doing.

That happiness was instantly crushed as Willow noticed Tara and stopped dead in her tracks. She stared at Tara rather awkwardly and forced a smile. Buffy and Giles greeted her quickly and politely, but Buffy soon found an excuse to go out the door and Giles to go down into the basement, leaving the two witches alone.

"H-hey, Willow," Tara finally managed. "Um, how is everything...going?" She gritted her teeth as the words left her mouth. How was everything going? Ugh, she sounded cavalier and dismissive of what Willow must be going through, and she knew very well that their breakup wasn't helping matters.

To her surprise, Willow snapped out of her momentary state of shock and answered her cheerily. "Pretty good! Giles has been nice enough to help me out with some rehabilitation and I think I'm definitely making progress with my magical and emotional control."

"That's amazing," Tara said, genuinely proud of her. It seemed like Willow had taken their breakup and her mistakes and actually made something productive out of it. "What sorts of things are you working on?"

"Well, Giles and I decided that stopping magic altogether is probably just repressing part of me and could result in outbursts, you know? And so we're doing mental and physical exercises to make sure my control is healthier and more normal, I guess, and I've been seeing a magical therapist, and we've been reading up on magical history and stuff like that."

"Wow, that sounds amazing," Tara repeated again, her conversational skills escaping her. "Really...comprehensive." _Comprehensive?_ She winced, cursing her inability to interact with an ex like a normal human being. Willow just nodded and smiled.

They stared at each other for a few moments, faintly smiling, not sure how or if to continue the conversation. Abruptly, and without any input from her conscious brain, Tara awkwardly lurched forward and pulled Willow into a quick hug. It lasted only a couple seconds before they disentangled and Tara gave Willow a small, uncomfortable nod. "Um, okay, bye?" Tara said.

"Bye, Tara. Have a good day," Willow said, giving her one last perplexed look before leaving. Tara could normally do energy work no problem, but she couldn't make any sense of the jumbled mess of emotions left in Willow's wake.

 _Well, I guess it could've gone a little worse_ , she thought, trying to reassure herself. It could always be worse.

* * *

Giles hurried down the stairs into the basement and shut the door behind him. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Tara. She was really a lovely girl, so intelligent and kind and mature, and he'd like to catch up any other time. But Tara's and Willow's relationship drama was neither any of his business nor something he wanted any part of.

"Giles!" Anya shrieked, jumping out at him from seemingly nowhere. "I've been waiting for you to finish up your training with Willow today." Giles did his absolute best not to dissect what this meant or over-analyze the significance of her waiting for him, and would have failed miserably had she not continued to speak loudly in the same rapid-fire pace. "You'll never believe what happened or how good I feel about it!"

"Oh, ah, yes, hello, Anya," he stammered, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I actually escaped down here from what looked to be a horrendously uncomfortable interaction between Willow and Tara." That got a little smirk out of her, but she was too caught up in her news to linger on the topic.

Anya came closer, excitedly gripping his shoulders and standing very much within his personal space. "I made up with Xander and got fired from being a demon!" She beamed at him, then frowned a little. "Forgiving a man who wronged me and celebrating my demotion from being a supernatural being isn't much like me, but people change, I guess."

Giles gave her one of his rare genuine smiles. "Oh, Anya, that's wonderful. I suppose I don't have to tell you that I'm very proud of you and pleased with this outcome of events?"

"I know. But only because I took your advice." He was about to argue, but she tilted her head and gave him that smirk again and he knew she was kidding. She understood. With no warning, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged back, trying to convey just how happy for her he was. They finally split apart. "I'm going to tell you everything, but I need to tell Tara too. That's why she's here; I called her so we could talk."

They still stood very close together, and Giles looked down at her fondly. "People do change, Anya. And I'm very, very proud of the growth I've seen in you."

"Never would've been able to without my very first boss," she answered him brightly, grabbing his hand and pulling him up the stairs to go find Tara.

* * *

Tara looked fondly at Dawn, who she'd grown to see as a daughter of sorts. It was their weekly movie and milkshake day, and by now she'd learned not to argue with how much milkshake Dawn was drinking. She was a growing girl, and Buffy would probably make her eat something healthy at home, right?

Dawn took one final slurp of her milkshake and fixed her attention on Tara. "So? Tell me everything you know."

"Dawnie, I don't know what you mean," Tara said, honestly confused.

Dawn dramatically rolled her eyes in the way only a 16-year-old girl could. "Everyone thinks I'm too young and they won't tell me anything. I know you don't have like, all the info, but I bet everyone's more honest with you, anyway."

Tara considered for a moment. She really did understand that Dawn felt excluded and out-of-the-loop, but there was only so much she could share without betraying her friends' confidences. And there was no way she was getting into her painfully awkward interaction with Willow. "Well...I don't know much either, but it seems like Willow's training is going well. Giles seems satisfied with it, anyway. I guess you'd know better since you actually live with her." She paused. Anya's demon status was private, and Tara would never tell anybody about the blossoming of _something_ she saw forming between Giles and Anya. She doubted the two of them were even self-aware enough to notice. "Anya and Xander officially made up, and I think they're friends again. The Magic Box is doing well." She shrugged. "Sorry I don't have anything more exciting." _That I can tell you, anyway_ , she silently added.

"Cool," Dawn said, stuffing a handful of french fries into her mouth. The mom in Tara looked on disapprovingly. _Fries are potatoes, and potatoes are vegetables, right?_ She tried to silently reassure herself. Dawn didn't need to be smothered or overprotected. "So, what's new with you?" Dawn asked Tara.

It was such a normal, innocent question, but it caught Tara by surprise. The truth was that she'd been so caught up with taking care of the people around her for so long that she didn't really have a life of her own. Sure, she was reading quite a bit, but that was so passive. She was struck with the sudden realization that she _needed_ to do something completely for herself. "Not much!" Tara said casually, trying to deflect the question. "So, tell me about school today."

Dawn chattered away about her friends and teachers and schoolwork, and Tara was happy to hear it. But she couldn't shake the uncomfortable thought lingering in the back of her mind that she didn't have anything besides other people.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Another late update! I'm the worst. Also, brief use of an OC, but she sucks and isn't important, so it's okay. We all know that I don't own Buffy or Monopoly. Also, in the last chapter, there's a vague reference about Dawn being in school even though it's July, so instead of going back and fixing that, I've decided that Dawn is in summer school now. When I started this fic, I had no clue where I was going with it, hence the vague title, and I'm considering changing the title before I get further in...ideas are welcome!**_

Early August 2002

"So let me get all this straight, Buffy," her new therapist, Jill, said.

"Yeah?"

"You're a slayer."

"Yeah. The Slayer, actually. The Chosen One, She-Who-Hangs-Out-In-Cemeteries, all that."

"And your life's mission is to fight the forces of darkness and slay vampires."

"Mhmm, something like that."

"And you've been in...two romantic relationships with a couple of the most notorious vampires in recorded history?"

Buffy had tried to give Jill a pretty simple rundown of her life up till now, but the woman was clearly struggling. Giles and Willow had told her that Jill was reasonably familiar with the supernatural, enough that she wouldn't freak if Buffy was honest with her, but they were 30 minutes into their session and it was already quite an ordeal. "Okay, in my defense, Angel had a soul and Spike was chipped, so they didn't pose any _real_ threat. Also, like I said, it _so_ wasn't a romantic thing with Spike."

Jill ignored the latter part of her answer and continued. "Until Angel lost his soul and went evil, and Spike tried to assault you?" Buffy was quiet for a moment. Nothing Jill was saying was incorrect, exactly, but Buffy felt like she was kind of missing the point. "I'm sorry for putting it so bluntly, Buffy," Jill sighed. "It's just...this is a lot. This is high-stakes stuff. They didn't cover this when I was getting my marriage and family counselor certification."

"What are you saying? What do you mean?" Buffy asked, noticing a shrill note in her own voice. She tried to continue in a more measured, even tone. "Will says you've been helping her a lot, and she's like, the most powerful witch in the modern world and she killed people and stuff. How is that any less normal than me?"

"If I can be honest with you―this is completely confidential, of course―Willow's problems are fairly mundane. You're right, she has incredible supernatural power. But at her core, she's just a regular girl who got in over her head with addiction, who struggles with feelings of guilt and inadequacy, who had a hard breakup. You've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, you've been taken out of heaven, you've had experiences and loves that most of us can't begin to fathom."

Buffy stared at her for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was shaky and tears were beginning to fill her eyes. "Are you saying you can't help me?"

Jill sighed. "I'm just not sure what I can do for you, Buffy. You're a lovely girl, and I want to help you out, but unlike with Willow there's not much I can draw on from regular human therapy to understand where you're coming from." Tears streamed down Buffy's face, and Jill leaned over to give her arm a reassuring touch. "Shh, shh. I don't mean to upset you. Your experiences and your concerns are so valid and important. But I'm not the one to help you."

Buffy seized onto the sliver of hope contained in that last sentence, implying maybe there was someone out there who could help her, fix her. "Who _can_ help me then? Is there anyone?"

"You need someone with my abilities," Jill said thoughtfully, "...But more intimate knowledge of your world. Maybe you'll find somebody, maybe you won't." Buffy didn't know what to say to this and stared down at her own hands folded in her lap. The two sat in silence for a few moments until Jill gently picked up her hands. "Here. The least I can do for you is some simple energy healing―it should help your mood and clear your mind a bit.

* * *

Willow picked up her home phone on the second ring. "Hello?"

"YOUR THERAPIST JUST BROKE UP WITH ME, WILL."

"Buffy? Is that you? What is going on?"

"Yes, it's me, damn it, and she broke up with me. She said, like, my problems were beyond her and she couldn't help me." Buffy's tone was angry, aggressive, but Willow could detect a smidgen of fear and disappointment under it all. It had really been a step for her to open up to anybody, and she and Giles had had such high hopes.

"Oh, Buffy―"

"Am I really that messed up?" Buffy asked, her voice cracking. Willow could hear her start to cry on the other end and wished she was there in person to comfort her. Instead, she settled for soothing words and her best attempt at sympathy.

* * *

Tara and Anya had taken up cooking together. It hadn't been much of a conscious decision, but they were both pretty decent at it and didn't mind the work, and it had become a little domestic ritual in their apartment. Tara didn't quite know how Anya felt about it, but Tara loved it-she'd had trouble making friends, especially female friends, her whole life, and she missed the routines she used to have when she lived with Willow and Dawn in the Summers house. This was like both of those things, and Tara couldn't have been more thrilled to be cutting vegetables.

"So, what's going on around the shop? Anything interesting today?" Tara didn't mind the comfortable silence that sometimes built up around the two of them, but she also knew Anya wasn't one to volunteer information without being asked.

"Not much," Anya said. "A customer tried to haggle down our price on the ground crow beaks." Tara tried not to think about what anybody could possibly need that for. "She said she could get them cheaper at her other source, and I told her, 'If our shop is such an inconvenience for you, why don't you just leave and go buy from somebody else?' She shut up and just bought from us."

"Good for you! You're a good businesswoman."

Anya looked at her conspiratorially and lowered her voice a little. "She didn't really have another source. I'd know about it, and anyway, she was just trying to get me to crack on our prices."

"Uh, yeah, I got that part," Tara told her. "But thanks for spelling it out for me. So, what's new with the Scoobies?" She tried to keep her tone light. _Definitely not fishing for information on Willow. Not here._

"Oh! I've got something good. I heard from Giles, who heard from Willow, who heard from Buffy, that even Buffy's new therapist thought she was a piece of work and decided not to keep working with her." Anya laughed, clearly finding this all very amusing.

Tara's reaction was much different. "Oh my goodness, how awful. She can't have really said that, could she?"

Anya shrugged. "I may have paraphrased a bit. But that was the gist."

Tara rolled her eyes and hit Anya lightly on the arm. "You're terrible."

"Just telling it like I see it," Anya said blithely. "Yeah, I guess she just thought Buffy's problems were all kind of beyond her. She was weirded out by the Slayer stuff. Apparently Willow's brand of messed up is at least semi-human, but Buffy's is way more out there."

"I guess so," Tara reluctantly agreed. "Still, that's awful for Buffy. She's been through so much; I really was hoping she'd be able to get some help." The two continued to cook quietly for a bit, moving around the kitchen in tandem. Tara decided now would be a good time to talk about what had been bothering her so much since she'd had lunch with Dawn last week. "Anya, I've kind of been thinking about something," she started, in a low, hesitant tone.

"Oh, God, I knew this was coming," Anya said, flinging her hands into the air.

Tara, genuinely very puzzled, had no idea what she was getting at. "Um, what? I don't think I've mentioned this particular thing to you before?" And unless Anya had suddenly gotten a lot better at picking up on people's feelings, there was no way she'd noticed Tara's ennui or lack of purpose.

"You're making a move on me," Anya stated, as if it were a clear fact. "I get it, and it's okay, and I'd even experiment with you, but at the end of the day I think I'm pretty straight."

Tara wasn't sure whether to be indignant or amused. "Anya, what? What have I possibly said or done to give you that idea?" Anya shrugged. "Just because I'm lesbian doesn't mean I automatically want to hook up with you. It doesn't work like that."

"I'll have you know that I've been considered quite a catch in my time."

"Oh, for the love of God, shut up. I seriously have a thing I want to talk about, but rest assured, it's not about you." Tara was getting frustrated, but she appreciated that Anya was a person she felt comfortable speaking so bluntly to.

"Okay. Go for it."

"So, I've kind of started to realize..." Tara paused, trying to figure out how to word it. "...that I don't have a life."

"You're just now figuring this out?" Anya asked her. Tara couldn't tell if she was joking, and decided to ignore it.

"I mean that I kind of live my life around other people. For other people. I don't have something totally for myself. And I guess that's selfish, but I want something that's just for me that I can care about and strive towards." Tara fought the urge to chastise herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She'd been raised in a life of deference to other people, and sometimes it still felt evil, wrong, to put herself first.

To her surprise, Anya's response was soft, reassuring. "That's not selfish at all, Tara. That's normal. I mean, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the shop to keep me busy."

Tara smiled happily, relieved that her friend understood. "Yeah, exactly. It's like that. I want to do something with my skills to support myself, make a place in the world."

"What were you thinking of doing?"

"See...that's where I need help. I have various things that I can do that I know are useful, but I just don't know how to turn that into something concrete. I know a lot about witchcraft, and have a good grasp on theory even if I don't have the raw power that witches like Willow do. I can do a variety of white magic, light charms, healing, all that. And I have the Sight, so I can see auras, among other things."

"You have the Sight?" Anya said, clearly impressed. "You can really see auras?" Sometimes Tara forgot, but Anya had more life experience and knowledge than the rest of the Scoobies combined. She had a real appreciation for magical history that the others didn't.

Tara nodded. "Yeah. I guess even among witches, the Sight is pretty rare. Willow doesn't have it, actually. That's one of the only powers I've got that she doesn't have." She said this with the tiniest touch of pride in her voice.

"Hey, nice," Anya said appreciatively. "Oooh. What's my aura look like right now?"

"Well, when you were a demon, the colors were all muted, dark―and it's hard to explain, but I can feel them, too. There was an uncomfortable buzzing sensation if I focused in on it too hard. But that's all gone now. Most of the time it's this beautiful, vibrant scarlet color, although no one's is just one color or always the same. There's more pink in it right now than there is usually."

Anya looked fascinated, her mouth slightly agape. "And what's that mean?"

"You're relaxed. Your guard is down." Anya appeared to ponder this for a moment, and Tara laughed. "Anya, it's 'cause you're cooking dinner with your friend and just hanging out. Don't overanalyze it too much."

"That's a pretty cool skill to have. You could definitely profit off of it."

"See, that's where I need your help. I don't know anything about profits or turning something like this into a business."

"Oh, you can turn anything into a business," Anya reassured her. "And in a place like Sunnydale, white magic is a hot commodity. Um, probably start with what Giles did with the Magic Box and put an ad in the phone book? And we can start telling clients about you over there."

"Would you really?" Tara asked, delighted. "That's amazing. Thank you!"

Anya turned to her and smiled, a rare glimmer of softness and affection shining in her eyes. "What are friends for?"

* * *

Giles had never seen anybody play Monopoly so efficiently, let alone somebody who hadn't known what Monopoly was until an hour ago. Evenings were getting slow in the Magic Box, and while he knew that wasn't exactly his concern anymore, he was drawn to the shop anyway. He told himself that it was entirely about concern and affection for the shop itself, not a certain shopkeeper. In any case, his lessons with Willow were only so long, and there was only so much he could do to help out with the shop, so he'd decided to teach Anya Monopoly.

He'd suspected it would be right up her alley, what with her fondness for capitalism, and he had been right. He had not anticipated how good she would be at it.

"So...now I own Park Place and Boardwalk. Those are the lucrative ones, right? Does that mean I win?"

"You still have to bankrupt me, Anya," he told her, knowing very well that he was minutes away from bankruptcy.

"That's just a technicality." They played another few rounds, and sure enough, he lost by a landslide. "It's okay, Rupert. We can't all be good with finances," she said, patting him consolingly on the shoulder.

"I'll have you know that this was just a practice round to teach you how to play the game, and that things become quite different when multiple players are involved," he informed her. "Tara!"

Tara, sitting on the far end of the shop, looked up and smiled. She was working on drafts for a new business or something she was starting, something Anya had helped her with. "Yes, Giles?"

"Would you like to be a third participant in our next round of Monopoly?"

She shrugged. "Sure, but I don't think that's going to stop Anya from winning." At this, Anya smiled triumphantly.

"Don't be so sure of yourself," he told her, in a way that might have been menacing had he not been, well, himself. He began to clean up the game pieces and reorganize them for another round when the phone rang.

"Hello! This is Rupert Giles at the Magic Box, your one-stop-spot for-"

"Rupert." The voice on the other end was gravelly, grim, and if Giles wasn't mistaken, the absolute last person he wanted to hear from right now. "It's Quentin. There's a great danger coming, and we need you in England to convene with the Council as soon as possible."


End file.
